So, I was thinkin'...that I should share my morning.
I'm mindlessly shuffling around my dining room, doing a little spring cleaning, singing a favorite from the best playlist ever. (until I change it up again tomorrow) I was thinking to myself how peaceful it is here in our tiny apartment is without my three young children getting up and bringing on the slow-burn of controlled chaos that comes on a normal morning. I had firmly decided that this glaring lack of natural physical chaos in the house is not a positive thing. I missing my kiddos moving around, gently grumbling as they pour their cereal. The verbal banter, mixed with the melody of bodily functions set to the sound of cereal being poured. Heaven. I was wondering to myself what mood everyone had woken up in today. I was a little glum, missing the kids, but the music and coffee were both lending a hand.
The kiddos are visiting their father for the first half of Spring Break and I'm doing a horrible job of relaxing and enjoying having a little extra space in our small space. With my bedroom being in the living room, and space such a eatery, I really should be enjoying this time more. I'm disappointed in me, too. I'm working on a plan.
So, I paused the sing-a-long to mumble to Jackson (my dog) how "having a quiet house had worn out its welcome". This was the first I'd really spoken in a couple of hours. The dogs aren't too chatty (Our turtle, Tiny isn't a chatty guy* either, for that matter). It's a rare thing that kind of silence, as I'm rarely not speaking to one kiddo or the other. In the interest of full disclosure, I should also note that I'm a bit of a talker in any situation, but I digress. I had refrained from making a brilliant comment, as I often do, before speaking to Jackson about how "diapers for geriatric dogs" would be coming soon or something equally as clever. My love for anti-politically correct humor shines bright. And though it would've been an awesome joke, he appreciated this small courtesy. I could tell. While Jackson was thanking me with his cataract filled wise old eyes, a loud "POP!!!" filled the entire apartment, shattering hours the hours of calm. A sound roughly resembling a wooden yard stick whapping a solid, flat surface. Hard. More accurately, the sound was exactly as loud as one of the kids giant punch balloons, slowly drifting too close to the mandarin/cranberry jar candle I had fired up only 10 minutes earlier. It was my son Ky's blue balloon. The heavy-duty punching-balloon was now in a couple of different spots around the living room. It's thick skin laying in small rolled up wads.
You see, 10 minutes before I had also cracked the sliding glass patio door. Tragically looking back, this was only moments after lighting the balloon-offending flame. This unfortunate dual-choice of mine set in motion the steps leading to the balloon's unexpected demise.
Why had I cracked the door, despite the arctic chill that is sticking around outside? You see, the apartment community we call home, I often speculate, is run by people who think summer should have arrived already. I believe they're using the complex-controlled heating system to act out this disturbing God-complex while simultaneously slow-cooking all of its tenants.
I was having trouble sleeping and chose spring cleaning over laying in bed wasting air. The lack of conversation and the uneasiness I had from the still atmosphere in the house coupled with the music being a steady and soothing background sound for a few hours, a loud noise was going to be a surprise. The fact that my knees buckled and I
almost crushed my 13-year-old mini-dachshund, Jackson, is not a moment I would want on video.
Jackson simply sat there, about 6 inches from his pre-pop location, looking in the direction of the mini-blast. He didn't seem concerned, despite the fact that my ass was about to turn him into puppy-nuggets at mach-3.
Clyde, my much younger, mini-dachshund/black lab mix, well he just lost his damn mind. He ran away at lighting speed like the loud noise went off to start his own personal track and field event. Before reaching his mystery destination, he seemed to realize that no more explosions were coming. Making an impressive u-turn around a table leg, he kept his speed no thanks to the limited space. He came flying back around, armed with his big-dog envy and the belief that he is just that, simultaneously transforming
into a King Kong sized guard dog. A vicious beast, destined to annihilate the cause of the noise. He whizzed past my crumpled form and stopped dead in his tracks a full 10 feet before an attack of any kind would even be possible against his imaginary enemy. Jack and I just looked at each other.
I'm glad the coffee pot is fired up and my house smells like fresh-brew. Though I'm second guessing my "decaffinated coffee is a pointless beverage" stance considering the cardiac arrest that I believe may be taking my life.
I think I will take a moment to enjoy the aroma. To clarify, I think I'll take a moment to breathe deep calming breaths. Maybe the nose-heaven, that is coffee, will calm my nerves back down to an acceptable level for another cup to be appropriate. I don't see it, but I'm optimistic. What I do know is this, the music will be turned off in favor of silence. My new genius plan is to engulf myself in all that silence has to offer, until we come to an agreement. I'll keep you posted.
Apparently, it is time to wake up my web guzzling friends. Tip for the day: refrain from speaking to any pets you may have until your house is up and moving. God has a sense of humor today, and he's taking notes. I'm just sayin'...
Go make your day memorable! Thanks for stopping by.
*Tiny may or may not be a guy turtle.